I Remember You
by FloodFeSTeR
Summary: He brings flowers every Saturday.


_**I don't know where this came from, honestly. I just suddenly had this wave of affection for Tig wash over me and this came up. There**_ could _**be a story for what led up to this moment and some time after it, if anyone is interested.**_

 ** _I hope you enjoy :)_**

* * *

He hates it here.

He hates the noises and the smells - disinfectant and failing bodies - that hit him every time he came. They twitched and hesitated around him, lost in their own worlds and their eyes begged for release but he was no savior for them.

He doesn't _care_ about them.

Especially the woman in 12B, with her array of glass eyes and porcelain smiles that face the open door. She leaves the door open so everyone can enjoy the music she plays on knitting day but _fuck_ he wants to run as far away as possible from those things.

But he can't leave, its Saturday and he brings flowers every Saturday.

Roses; pink is preferred, he knows they're a favorite, right next to ombre.

What fancy words she taught him.

He finds the room and doesn't bother to knock, just enters and locks the door behind him. He says nothing as he grabs the flowers from the table and dumps them, even though they had hardly wilted. He crushes up the right pills she taught him to and replaces the flowers to the left of the rocking chair.

He stares out the big, glass window in front of them, hands tucked into his pockets. Its a beautiful day, light breaking through the thick leaves of the palms outside.

Another moment and Tig sits in his chair to her right, looking over to her.

Her dark skin is clammy and her eyes are far away, lightly bloodshot. Her kinky hair is a mess on top of her head, indicating she's having one of her episodes.

"Jax had a little boy," he tells her, looking at the rings on his left hand. "His name is Abel."

She says nothing, but her tongue runs slowly over her lips. She's listening, but she always has a hard time just voicing her words.

"He's amazing, lemme tell ya." Tig scratched the back of his neck, looking up at her almost shyly through his own sagging curls.

She was staring at him now, brow lightly scrunched in confusion. He stiffens as she reached up to his face, her fingers running lightly over the bridge of his nose, his cheek, his lips. He sighs heavily at her touch, relaxing into it when she doesn't pull away. She examines him for a moment longer, abruptly pulling away as though she just realized what she was doing.

Tig looks up, pain peeking out deeply in his eyes as she looks away.

"Do you remember me, Percy," he whispers, fists clenched tight around each other. "Do you remember who I am?" She stares at her hand for a long time, not answering. " _Please_ ," his voice trembled softly. "Please talk to me. I need to hear your voice."

She looks at him in soft scrutiny, her head cocked to the right. Her lips part, as though she wanted to speak, but she quickly closes her mouth and folds her hands in her lap, glaring at them like it was their fault.

He chuckled at that, how cute she looked, a bit of her still left in there.

"You don't have to remember me right now, doll." He reached over, cupping her jaw in his hand and pulling her face to look at him. "I'll wait."

He hesitated, and leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers, growling softly in his chest at how soft and plump her lips were. Just like he remembered, the scent of strawberries soaked into her skin.

He felt a trembling hand reach up and grab his cut, holding tight until he pulled away.

God _damn_ she was still beautiful.

He smiles softly, pushing down the pervasive thoughts of what he remembered beneath her clothes and gently undid her tight grip on his leather.

"I gotta go sweetheart, I'll be back next Saturday." A promise he always kept.

He laid her hand back in her lap and pressed a kiss to her hair, trying to soak in as much of her scent as he could before he began his walk out the door.

His hand was on the knob when her crackly voice caught him.

"I remember you." It was a whisper, almost too low for him to hear.

He hesitates before he walks back to her slowly, heavy boots thunking against the floor. Her big eyes watch him as he approaches, staring up at him with such innocence. . .she hadn't changed in that perspective.

He crouched down in front of her, staring into those eyes while he lipd trembled, her hands reaching up to touch his curls.

"I remember these." She twisted a curl between her fingers, her eyes searching his desperately for an answer to her overwhelming questions.

"You okay sweetheart?" His thumb stroked over the ridge of her knee.

She swallowed heavily, looking ready to cry. "I remember this." Her eyes and hands moved down to his cut, fingers shaking over the leather. "But I. . .I don't remember _you_." Her lips trembled. "Why can't I remember you?"

He watched her begin to panic, with the tremors and the whispers, the way her hands worried around themselves. Her eyes darted around the room for a long time before they landed on his, longing for answers.

But now wasn't the time, it would be too much.

He smiled at her and smoothed a hand down the side of her head. "Don't worry, doll," his voice was soft. "It'll come back to you."

She accepted the empty promise, sighging in mild relief, but of course she couldn't just forget that she didn't even know who she was.

"I'm not gonna leave you, okay? You're not alone." A promise he could keep.

* * *

 _ **I don't like the ending really, but trust me it was the better option of the many I wrote out. So whatcha think? If you wanna get a feel of the story before it even comes out, find my Pinterest account and look through the board titled 'Persephone | Sons Of Anarchy'.**_

 _ **My account is the same as on here, FloodFeSTeR. There is another one on there under my same name and same profile pic, but its just me because there were complications getting into my old one. But that's fixed and I'm moving around boards on there and the second account will be deleted.**_

 _ **Yea or nae on the story for this?**_


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